


Fever

by combefaerie



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combefaerie/pseuds/combefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sullivan is ill, and when he is ill, his verbal filter appears to malfunction slightly... Sid finds this adorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on tumblr  
> "Prompt, Sullivan is ill and father brown is taking care of him. Sid has been instructed to watch over Sullivan while Father Brown is busy. Sid enjoys Sullivan's fever ramblings."

"He’s had his tablets, so you don’t need to do much. Just wipe his brow occasionally and if he wakes up make sure that he drinks, I’m sure even you can’t mess that up! Her ladyship has kindly given you the afternoon off, so you have no excuse to get out of this. Now, any questions?" 

”But, why me? Can’t… Can’t the Father do it or something? Why is he even here?” 

”Holy mother of God, Father Brown looked after him all yesterday, and I’m busy this afternoon. We cannot leave him when he’s in this state, and all his family is miles away in London. Its the only Christian thing to do in this situation, you need to stay with him and thats final. There’s chicken soup on the stove.” 

 

And with that the Parish Secretary left, with a quiet but decisive click of the front door latch, and Sid was left in an empty house to his thoughts. A moan pulled him out of his reverie, right, not alone; Kembleford Police’s very own Inspector Sullivan was in the next room with fever, and apparently Father Brown had volunteered to look after him. Of course this event meant that Sid needed to help. Of course. He stuck his head round the door and was greeted by the sight of Sullivan lying in his bed, flushed and sweaty, and so Sid gingerly dampened the flannel on the side table and pressed it to the other man’s forehead. This appeared to help, so he continued until the inspector looked more comfortable. 

 

He had just come to terms with what was happening, and hoping that Sullivan would stay asleep for the entirety of his time there -he didn’t need to eat right? Mrs Mccarthy would have made sure he ate loads in the morning- when a quiet, groggy, voice issued forth from the other man 

”Sid? Sid… What, what are you, why are you… Here?” 

The chauffeur chuckled softly; it seemed that the combination of illness and medicine had made the man less than lucid. 

”I’m here to make sure you are alright, and that you don’t die and all. I mean, what would we all do without someone to arrest everyone?” 

There are times when Sid knows that he can be a bit of a dick, and he instantly regrets his words when the inspector’s face falls. 

”You’d all cope. Father Brown does a better job of all this than I do anyway. He should be the detective. I’d be a terrible priest though…” 

 

He trails off pensively, as Sid mops his brow again, and then suddenly jerks his head up to look at him, asking with a very serious expression: 

”Sid, Sid, do you think we have a soul? Because I don’t believe in God and all that, and so I probably don’t think there is a soul. But then there is the part of you that is, well you, and what would you call that if not a soul? The essence of Sid. Do you think if you are religious that part of you gets automatically upgraded to soul status? Sid?” 

 

This sort of thing continued for the rest of the afternoon and into the start of the evening, rambling philosophical questions interspersed with the occasional random comment. Sullivan probably didn’t get much opportunity for silliness, Sid supposed, and so this was his only chance. Would he be like this drunk? At that moment a plan was formed in his head: get the other man sloshed at some point and find out. Sid had actually had a suprisingly pleasant day, and the look of thanks on Sullivan’s face when Sid reassured him that he really did do his job well was both gratifying and completely heartbreaking. It was almost as if no one had told him that before, and that was a turn of events that could not be allowed to continue, so Sid would try to compliment him as much as possible now, including how nice he looked in his tailored suits. Yes. Sounded like a plan, tell him how great his arse is and how adorable when rambling: a perfect seduction scheme. Now, how to go about it…


End file.
